


though in the dark i say

by QueenPersephoneofHades



Series: 2018 Whumptober Ficlets [8]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, less whump more fluff, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPersephoneofHades/pseuds/QueenPersephoneofHades
Summary: There are times when he forgets to feel like an outsider in this family. Written for Day 8 of Tumblr's 2018 Whumptober.





	though in the dark i say

The ominous creak of a door opening is just enough to rouse Callum from the deep comforting darkness of slumber. “Whu-?” he grumbles in protest at the sound, slitting his eyes open to the muted moonlight streaming into his room from the wide window next to his bed.

He half-expects it to be a servant, or a guard, come to check on the tiny heir to the throne; instead, said prince is instead shuffling over from his own room, draped in one of the largest, wooliest blankets on his bed. “Callum,” Ezran mumbles sleepily, one tiny hand rubbing fitfully at one eye. “I feel gross.”

Callum blinks a bit rapidly and sits up to force himself a bit more awake as his half-brother’s small form stumbles up to the side of his bed, flushed face and miserable expression thrown into sharp relief by the shadows of the room.

“Pukey-gross or too-warm gross?” He has to ask, cause duties of an older brother aside, he’d _really_ rather not deal with vomit right now. Ezran whimpers pathetically, and Callum has to suppress a wince when he leans forward and presses a hand to Ezran’s forehead.

Oh, _that_ can’t be good.

“All kinds of gross,” Ezran sniffles pitifully, his entire little body starting to tremble despite his great trailing blanket.

Any thoughts of avoiding the possibility of vomit go out the window; Callum scoots over a bit, and helps Ezran scramble up onto the bed without pitching over and falling onto the floor. “I gotcha, buddy,” he soothes as Ez shoves his face into the pillow with another whimper. “You okay if I go ask for some help, or do you want me to stay here?”

Ez makes another vague noise into the pillow, which Callum chooses to interpret as some sort of affirmative. “You know, that’s not going to help your stuffed nose at all,” he pointed out helpfully, which just earned him a longer, more frustrated noise.

Regretfully climbing out of his warm, comfy bed, he makes sure all the blankets are pulled up around Ezran before tiptoeing quickly across the cold stone floor to the main door to their bedchambers. Luckily, the guards haven’t rotated away yet; both the ones posted at the end of the hall and at the corner next to their room come to attention when the door opens and Callum pokes his head out.

“Could one of you go wake up the court physician, please? Ezran isn’t feeling too great,” he explains quietly, and is entirely grateful when the soldier at the end of the hall salutes before disappearing down a connecting passage.

He heads back over to his bed to find that Ezran seems to have found a comfortable position, starfishing on his back with the pillow still pressed into his face, and he can’t help a tired laugh. “Did you just get sick so you could have an excuse to invade my bed?” Callum asks, plopping down at the foot of the bed with a reluctant smile; he feels that maybe he should be a bit more irritated, but it’s hard to be mad when Ezran shoves the pillow to one side to glare at him miserably.

“It’s not funny! I can’t sleep at all!” he protests with a scowl before breaking off to cough harshly into his elbow.

Callum stood up and moved around to help Ezran sit up instead of remain on his back, sitting down to support his weight from behind. “It might help your breathing if you stay sitting upright,” he explained as he settled more comfortably, and Ezran just hummed in answer, eyes already slipping shut as his head lolled into Callum’s collarbone in exhaustion.

Luckily, they don’t have to wait for long for the physician; she arrives with a candlelit lamp in hand and the guard hovering over her shoulder, opening the door to their room as quietly as possible before walking briskly over to the two princes, setting down her lamp and medicinal bag and asking, “Is he awake?”

Callum opens his mouth to answer, but Ezran beats him to it. “Unfortunately.”

Callum and the physician share an amused smile before she set to work, gently cajoling Ezran into telling her when his fever started and how bad his headache is. She feels Ezran’s forehead, listens to his breathing, and feels his throat for swelling before mashing up a couple herbs and pouring them into water, and Callum has to help Ezran swallow it all down without losing his grip on the glass. He gags a little at the taste, but manages to keep it all down, which makes her nod in approval.

“His fever should break by morning; if it gets worse or persists past midday, call for me again and I’ll give him something a bit stronger,” she instructs as she efficiently packs away her instruments again.

Callum nods his head diligently as he gently helps Ezran lay back down and draws the blankets back up just under his chin, and for the first time the physician’s face becomes troubled.

“Where is the king?” she asks suddenly, making Callum jump in surprise. “Does he not know his heir is ill?”

Callum can feel himself flushing hard; he hadn’t even _thought-_

“I forgot to let him know,” he admits in shame, and one of her eyebrows rises. The physician glances back at the door, where the guard had remained in place; after a pointed tilt of her head he immediately about-faced and disappeared out into the hallway again.

With a roll of her eyes, the physician turned back to Callum, a stern finger levelled at him. “You’d best get to sleep, young man; being around your brother while he has a fever could get you sick, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Callum sheepishly nods his head, and she takes her leave with a quiet farewell, taking her lamp with her and leaving the room to the moon’s shadows once again.

Left alone with a half-conscious Ezran, Callum can’t force himself to get up again; he’s just now feeling the fatigue of the day catching up to him again, and with all the blankets piled onto the bed, it’s already plenty toasty warm.

“Hey, Callum.”

Ezran’s sleepy voice wakes him up a little again. “Yeah?”

Ezran turns to face him, eyes half-open and glazed with fever, but still bright as jewels in the dark. “You were reading that big ol’ book about Xadia yesterday, right? Could you tell me about it?”

Callum’s chest feels all fuzzy, and suddenly he doesn’t care about getting sick like the physician said. He lifts up the covers and slides under them, grinning tiredly at Ezran’s beaming smile.

“Well, let’s see…”

* * *

The ominous creak of a door opening is just enough to rouse Callum from the deep comforting darkness of slumber. “Hmm?” he hums questioningly, but is too tired to muster anything more; beside him, he feels Ezran burrow his face a little further into his chest.

It’s too comfy to wake up completely, even when large hands very carefully tuck them in.

“I just came in to check on you boys,” a deep voice says quietly, sounding faintly amused and very, very fond. “Good night Ezran, Callum.”

He’s still half-asleep, quiet and warm, so when Ezran mumbles, ‘bye, Dad’ Callum doesn’t think twice about repeating, “G’night, Dad.”

The voice sucks in a quick, quiet breath, but Callum has drifted off completely before he can respond.


End file.
